


thirty days.

by steamedmantou



Series: 30 day tumblr challenge [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 22:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 10,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steamedmantou/pseuds/steamedmantou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for a 30 day drabble challenge on tumblr. thirty scenarios (give or take), not necessarily connected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. [flame] | kuroko, kagami

**Author's Note:**

> a mass of drabbles for a challenge. the characters and pairings (if any) will be listed in the chapter title so you can navigate through the chapter index if you're particular about your preferences!
> 
> i lied, there aren't 30 scenarios in here. the other three are [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/680143/chapters/1247020) due to rating and [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/680180), mainly due to length and its oneshot status.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two idiots in a lab.

            Kuroko looks around, searching for the source of the choked, gurgling noise he hears right as the Bunsen burner flares to life with a jagged orange flame. 

            “Kagami-kun,” Kuroko says, “was that you?” 

            “That was the flint squeaking!”  Kagami blurts out.

             “I didn’t specify what I meant, you know.”

             Kagami looks pointedly away from their lab bench.

             Kuroko looks at the flint lighter in his hands, then looks back at Kagami.  “Kagami-kun, are you afraid of fire?”        

            “No!” 

            “How ironic that Kagami-kun is afraid of fire,” Kuroko says, enunciating the first syllable of his name. 

            “I’m not!  I’m…” Kagami takes a deep breath, almost deflating, his indignant glare replaced by a more contemplative look in his eyes.  “I’m just more aware of fire, that’s all.  You gotta be careful with it.” 

            Kuroko looks at him thoughtfully.  “You’re right,” Kuroko says, as he fiddles with the valve on the burner, the crackling orange flame straightening to a glowing blue.  “It certainly is wise to be careful around fire.  Ah.  I’m afraid I don’t know how to properly use this.  Could you please turn it off?”  Kuroko hands Kagami the flint.  “Well,” he says, “it’s your turn to practice lighting it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: oct 11, 2012  
> first revised: feb 10, 2013


	2. [future] | himuro, kagami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they don't talk like how they used to.

            It is near one o’clock in the morning and Tatsuya imagines that this train is the last.  It’s a thought yet to be verified by the print of a schedule, but there is the air of finality in the cabin, the drowning brightness of the lights draining through the windows painted black by the night sky.

            He and Taiga are only two more stragglers left behind by the frantic daytime crowds.  The train is close to empty.  Only a handful of weary commuters remain, wavering between both sides of sleep.

            They sit shoulder to arm to hip to knee, leaning into each other, as though their seats offer no support.  It’s been a long day.  Tatsuya’s spent the entire day with Taiga wandering around town without a destination in mind.  They talked about anything, everything, as though nothing had changed from when they were in elementary school.  Throughout the day Tatsuya tells himself that Taiga isn’t being more reticent compared to before, and that there’s nothing unusual about the way he leads most of their conversation.  Tatsuya tells himself he can still look Taiga square in the eye and be who he used to be.

            Only when the sun had inched its way down the horizon and a few overtaxed street lights flickered off did they remember they had a home to return to.  They haven’t much left to say now, so they sit in exhausted silence, not speaking, exhaling softly, slowly.

            Abruptly Taiga asks – when’s your flight?

            That catches Tatsuya off guard.  …Friday.  Four in the afternoon.

            Huh.  Taiga looks away to his right.

            I didn’t tell you, did I?

            No.

            I see. 

            Taiga still isn’t looking at him.  How long will you be gone?

            I don’t know.  Dad’s been transferred again.  We’ll have to see how it goes.

            Taiga says nothing else.  Tatsuya’s right hand is lying palm up on his thigh, fingers curved, and he wants to clench it, if only Taiga couldn’t see.  He does not expect Taiga to take his hand, weaving fingers between his own.

            Tatsuya laughs.  Hey.  We’re not kids anymore.

            So?

            So.  We’re not the only people on the train.  People will talk.

            Let them.  There’s nothing wrong with brothers holding hands, is there?

            But what you mean and what I mean by brothers is not the same, Tatsuya doesn’t say.

            So Tatsuya presses his lips together and says nothing.  They sit there, quiet, looking away from each other.  When they reach Taiga’s stop Taiga doesn’t get up and leave the train and when Tatsuya’s stop comes, they stay unmoving, still.  They sit and breathe and sit there with their hand in each other’s, fingers intertwined and white knuckled, both of them thinking, about tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: oct 12/13, 2012  
> first revised: feb 10, 2013


	3. [diamond] | kuroko, aomine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little encouragement goes a long way. teikou era.

            One day, after a particularly disappointing ranking test for Kuroko, Aomine pulls a pencil from his pocket, a regular no. 2 pencil wrapped in wood, and waves it in Kuroko’s face.  “Y’know, this,” he says, pointing at it for good measure, “is a pencil.”

            Kuroko affixes a steely, wordless stare on Aomine.

            “We were talking about carbon in science today.  With sufficient pressure even graphite could become a diamond,” Aomine says, with a smirk, as though he had said something of great importance.

            “Aomine-kun.  Don’t be silly.  Pencil lead could never become a diamond,” Kuroko says, plainly.

            “Hey,” Aomine says, deflating.  “Do you get what I’m saying?”

            Of course Kuroko gets what he’s trying to say.  Aomine’s never been one for subtlety and Kuroko appreciates that Aomine probably put a bit of thought into his metaphor.  (Besides, every science class in their grade already covered elements a few months back.)  It’s just that Kuroko knows it’s foolish to train false hopes.  He knows it’ll take more than a few miracles to ever have the talent dreams are made of.

            But Kuroko doesn’t say this.  Instead, he grabs the pencil out of Aomine’s hand and slips it into his schoolbag.

            “Aomine-kun,” Kuroko says, picking up his pace.  “Let’s go shoot some baskets.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: oct 22, 2012


	4. [haze] | aomine, kuroko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fog and hide and go seek. teikou era.

            It had been a cold spring morning, where half-formed dew only precariously remained on the side of liquid.  They were barely out of winter and the moisture in the air threatened, at any moment, to descend into frost.  On the way to school that morning, with his shoulders scrunched in defiance, Aomine bitched endlessly about the cold, as though his ire could propel the surrounding atmosphere into climbing a few degrees higher.  Kuroko turned a silent, tolerant ear as they walked to school, side by side, in a one-sided conversation.

            The temperature had soared in the middle of the day, however, and by the time they were finished with practice the bone-deep chill of the morning was gone.  In its place was white, soupy fog, water droplets suspended a hair’s breadth from each other, threatening to reconnect and collapse, swallowing them like a swell of the ocean.

            “Woah, damn,” Aomine said, “when did this fog get here?”

            “It’s so foggy I can barely see a foot in front of me,” Kuroko said, waving a hand in the air, in the manner of one testing a pool.

            “Yeah?”  Aomine said.  “Care to test that?”  He darted a few paces forward.  “Can you see me here?”

            Kuroko squinted into the fog.  “Just barely.”

            He could hear Aomine continuing to run.  “Hey, it’s like hide and go seek.  Tetsu, come and get me.”

            “Aomine-kun?”

            Perhaps he hadn’t called his name loud enough, or maybe Aomine had run too far ahead.  Kuroko sighed and sped up. 

            “Aomine-kun, if you go too fast, I’m not going to be able to catch up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: oct 24, 2012  
> first revised: feb 10, 2013


	5. [look] | kagami, aomine, etc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seeing aomine at the movie theatre is not kagami's idea of fun. originally posted halloween 2012.

            Kagami immediately regrets making eye contact with Aomine.

            “What?”  Aomine demands.

            “Nothing,” Kagami says, looking away in the opposite direction.

            Kagami jerks his head back at the sound of approaching footsteps.  Damn, Aomine’s walking closer, saying, “Hey, if you have something to say, say it.”

            “I didn’t have anything to say!”  Kagami exclaims, shoulders raised in a half shrug.  He hasn’t even gotten into the damn movie cinema and this year’s Halloween is already becoming scarier than he’d bargained for.

            “Then why are you looking over?”  Aomine asks, glowering, getting all up into his personal space.  Kagami leans back, instinctively.  Why did Aomine behave like such a thug!

            “I was _just wondering_ why you were here at the theatre,” Kagami says, dragging out the syllables, in mock patience.

            Kagami breathes a muted sigh of relief when Aomine finally has the decency to back off.  “I’m waiting for Tetsu,” Aomine says, jamming his hands in his pockets.

            “You’re waiting for Kuroko?”  Kagami asks, a touch incredulous.

            “Ye-eah,” Aomine slurs.  “So?”

            Kagami points to himself.  “I’m waiting for Kuroko.”

            “What—”

            Kuroko chooses that moment to pop up, slightly out of breath.

            “You invited _him_?”  Kagami and Aomine say, simultaneously.

            “Didn’t I say?”  Kuroko says.

            He had been hoping for a low-key Halloween for once.  Kagami sighs.  He might as well make the best of it.  “So what movie are we watching?” Kagami asks, accepting the ticket from Kuroko.

            “Well, it’s Halloween, so it’s only fitting to watch a horror movie,” Kuroko says, as he passes the remaining ticket to Aomine.

            Kagami nearly drops the slip of paper.

            No, he had _definitely_ not signed on for this, Kagami thinks, already feeling nauseous and light-headed.

            His only consolation is the fact that he’s _pretty_ sure (although it’s hard to tell) that he sees Aomine pale, rueing the night just as much as he is.

\---

half-assed omake: and then they run into midorima and takao (who dragged green there) and then they run into kise + kaijou because they all suck at getting dates and sooner or later there’s a popcorn fight to be had when kagami and aomine get it together to stop clinging onto kuroko for dear life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: oct 31, 2012  
> first revised: feb 10, 2013


	6. [move] | kuroko, aomine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> should it be more fun watching someone play ddr than it is to play ddr yourself? teikou era.

            “Seriously?”  Aomine says.  “You’ve never played DDR?”

            “No,” Kuroko replies, “I can’t say that have.”

            “We can fix that,” Aomine says, tossing his school bag to the side.  He vaults over the arched metal support bar, landing on the directional keypad.  “Come on up,” Aomine says, jerking a finger towards the platform adjacent to his own.

            Kuroko steps up as Aomine feeds coins into the machine, selecting the one-player mode.  “Guess we’ll go with light for you, Tetsu,” Aomine says, selecting heavy for his own difficulty, as tinny refrains of upbeat pop music blare through the speakers.  “It’s easy.  So there’ll be arrows that move up the screen,” he says, as the screen flashes ‘READY? HERE WE GO!’ at them.  “And you gotta step on the arrow key down here when that arrow on the screen lines up with the bar at the top… whoops,” Aomine says, watching the screen jeer ‘boo’ at the both of them when the first flurry of arrows race past their finish line.  He quickly catches the next, fast as lightning, as Kuroko stumbles to match the rhythm of the music.

            “And hold onto the bar behind you if you have trouble balancing!” Aomine calls out, doing nothing of the sort himself.  Despite the life bar flashing in warning on his screen, Kuroko finds himself distracted from the game, stealing glances to his right.  Aomine moves larger than necessary, though the lost motion from jumps and flares of the arms do not bog him down.  He moves like gravity has no hold on him, liquid and mesmerizing. 

            Kuroko only has the presence of mind to give his screen full attention when it announces GAME OVER and snaps his session to a close. 

Aomine laughs, clear and open.  “Tetsu, you suck!”  He does not miss a beat.

            “This is my first time,” Kuroko says, petulance creeping into his voice.

            “Maybe I should’ve picked beginner for you,” Aomine says, raising an eyebrow at his B grade.  “Damn, getting rusty,” he mutters.

            “Again,” Kuroko says, stubborn.  “I’ll clear it this time.”

            “You want to bet a drink on that?”

            Kuroko does not, however, clear his next song, and reluctantly owns up to the bet, to Aomine’s laughter.  He has the hang of it by his third try, passing with a respectable C grade.  Ready for a breather, Kuroko trots off to buy drinks for the both of them, coming back to Aomine freestyling on double mode across both pads.

            “Guess I should let these people have a turn,” Aomine says, after, doing a double-take at the small crowd that had accumulated the machine.

            “I don’t think that’s why they’re here, Aomine-kun,” Kuroko says, passing him a bottle.

            Aomine shrugs.  “We should probably go home, anyway.”

            The sun is starting to set when they exit the arcade.  Aomine nudges Kuroko with an elbow.  “See, that was fun, right?”

            “Of course,” Kuroko replies, not saying that he enjoyed watching Aomine play more than playing himself.

            “I think these machines have a unison mode,” Aomine says.  “Y’know, where we both play across two pads.  We should try that sometime.”

            Kuroko smiles, wry.  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to move the way you move, Aomine-kun.”

            “That’s easy,” Aomine says, grinning.  “I’ll just have to learn the way _you_ move.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: nov 2, 2012  
> first revised: feb 10, 2013


	7. [summer] | aomine, kuroko; aokuro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> summer and itches. teikou era. probably.

            Kuroko is naturally expressionless.  Aomine’s still getting used to his brand of deadpan, but right now, even he could tell how on edge Kuroko was.

            “You shouldn’t scratch them,” Aomine says helpfully.

            Kuroko looks at him, eyes flashing with what looks like deep irritation.  “Thank you, Aomine-kun. Thank you for the reminder.”

            “Anytime,” Aomine says, grinning.  He sees Kuroko’s fingers twitch, as though they are compelled to crawl over and scratch the mosquito bites on his legs, swollen and livid red.

            “Mosquitoes really love you, huh.”

            “It’s very unfair how you don’t have any bites, Aomine-kun.”

            “I bet you taste really sweet.”

            Aomine is mentally revising his album of Tetsu-field-notes.  Kuroko is rather expressive, actually, if one cared to look.  He’s fixing a baleful look on Aomine, steady and intense.  A lesser man would have turned to stone.

            “I doubt it,” Kuroko says, flat.

            “You don’t know that,” Aomine says.  He grabs Kuroko’s arm.  “Here, let me taste.”  He licks a strip up the underside of Kuroko’s forearm.  It’s almost odd how the pale, milky skin is saltier than it is sweet, when its appearance pointed towards the taste of cream.

            “Don’t be gross,” Kuroko says, yanking his arm away.  He grabs a handful of Aomine’s shirt and wipes the wetness away.  “That itched.”

            “Least it’ll get your mind off those other itches?”

            “You’re kind of an itch yourself, Aomine-kun,” Kuroko says, grimacing, giving in and scratching one of the welts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: nov 3/4, 2012  
> first revised: feb 10, 2013


	8. [snowflake] | kise, female original

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what was her name again? kise, pre-teikou basketball club.

            Today is not the first, or the second, or even the third snow of the season.  Even so, Yukiko – that's her name, right? – reacts as though it is, looking up and sighing happily at the slow descent of the snowflakes.  "Snow is so pretty, isn't it, Kise-kun?"

            "Sure is," Kise says, looking straight ahead.

            Yukiko stops walking mid-step to catch a single snowflake on a woolen mitt and brings it close to her eyes.  "Wow, look at all the detail.  It's such a pretty crystal."

            Kise turns to look at the snowflake, but before he can see it Yukiko gasps in disappointment.  "Aww, it melted!"

            He opens his mouth to utter light-hearted words of consolation, but hesitates as he takes in the sight of the girl, cheeks and nose red from the cold, bundled up in a carefully coordinated scarf and wool coat, the pattern of her skirt complementing the rest of the ensemble in deliberate harmony.  She's small, pretty, delicate. 

            He saw the snowflake, after all.

            Kise pauses before speaking again, as though he is considering something very carefully.  "Yukiko-chan," he says, smiling almost beatifically, "let's break up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: nov 24, 2012  
> first revised: feb 10, 2013


	9. [tremble] | aomine, momoi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if: game breaking impairments

            Nobody's really sure when the tremors started.  Daiki's not really sure himself.  That's what he says, anyway.  Fact is, he remembers the exact moment he knew something wrong.  He missed a basket.  It wasn't unprecedented that he would miss a shot.  It's just that for the longest time he's never missed, even when he wasn't trying to aim.

            He can barely hold a pen properly, let alone manage the subtle flick of the wrist that once came so easy, so natural.

            Satsuki's the first one to notice, obviously.  He can't hide anything from her.  Daiki makes her swear not to tell, not even after he's been able to resign on his own terms.

            She holds his hand.  Daiki doesn't even have the energy to pretend to be embarrassed by it.  He squeezes back, crushing, white-knuckled, so hard that he knows he's probably hurting Satsuki, but that's the only way he can keep his hand still and the only way he knows how to speak, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: nov 24, 2012  
> first revised: feb 10, 2013


	10. [outside] | aomine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we all dream dreams we don't understand

            The sky is blindingly blue and he can almost swim in the ocean of the sky, endless.  He's soaring up before a little voice at the back of his mind whispers small in his ear, asking him to come back down, please, Aomine-kun, don't leave me behind.

            He opens his eyes and he's standing in grassy fields moved by a gentle breeze, in the midst of rows upon rows of white sheets drying in the wind.  A slight figure darts behind the cover of linen and he gives chase, white curtains falling.

            With a sweep the sheets fly upwards and his gaze follows.  The sky is grey, ashen, and tiny flakes of snow dance towards the ground, softly.  There are footprints in the virgin snow.  He follows them—

            —into a dilapidated house, worn and decaying, floorboards creaking and ready to give.  The enigma he's chasing runs upstairs and he follows, in the dark, and there is no lighting save for ghostly illumination outside the windows, casting the skeletal shadows of bare tree limbs across the walls, scant and spidery.

            There the shadow turns around, slowly, and tells him its name.  This is where Aomine wakes up as he tumbles out of bed, disoriented and foggy, whispering the message with a sense of disquiet, but a thought or two later it's no clearer than before and it's another memory to be forgotten, before long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: dec 5/6, 2012


	11. [formal] | aomine, momoi, kuroko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in the event that: momoi is convocating for her doctorate. precedes [transformation].

            Aomine's expected back for the ceremony, of course.  It wasn't every day that a childhood friend convocated for their doctorate, after all, unless Satsuki planned on doing this a second or third time, Aomine thinks, yanking at his collar in a jerking, dejected motion.

            He's not used to the tie.  He can't stand the suit, and though it had been custom tailored to his proportions – "How can you expect to make it big in the NBA if you can't even present yourself as a functioning adult!" Momoi had shrieked at him before he left for America, and had promptly dragged him off shopping – it still doesn’t _fit_ properly.  He can't stand the way the suit binds his movement.  The dress shirt is awful, the collar is stiff, the fabric unyielding, and he hates the way the buttons climb all the way up top.  That the ensemble needs to be wrapped up by a noose of a tie ought to speak for itself.  The shoes are the worst, if he has to single something out.  They could have been made with the highest quality leather available and they still would not be able to move him up in the world the way a pair of basketball shoes could.

            And yet here he was, in the uniform of the occasion.  Aomine hides a yawn and looks at his watch.  He's lost track of which bigwig professor's turn it is to speak.  He stares at the high vaulted ceiling, stares down at the rows upon rows of graduates in black robes from the one of the hall's many balconies, stares at the stage until it's Momoi's turn to walk up, beaming and bright despite the darkness of the austere academic regalia, and Aomine has it in him to pay attention.

            He considers leaving after seeing Momoi get her, but ends up staying to the close, lingering at the doors.  He watches the throngs of friends and families and newly minted Doctors-of-Whatever filter out, congratulating each other, hands full with bouquets and stuffed animals and cameras.  Aomine remembers a day not unlike this one, involuntarily, as though he is looking through a translucent photo overlaid over the scene before him.

            He recalls standing to the side at the finish of a graduation ceremony, eyes searching the crowd, looking for a target he cannot find, amidst the languid downward spiral of cherry blossom petals.

            Finally Aomine picks Momoi out from the gathering, like he had then, at their middle school graduation, and he remembers how she had run up to him when he'd waved, and asked him, "Have you congratulated Tetsu-kun yet?" to which he replied, "Nah.  Didn't see him."

            Momoi had protested, and he'd shrugged, not telling her that it hadn't been because he didn't want to see Kuroko.  It was really more that he couldn't _find_ Kuroko.

            Just like then Momoi runs over, and it's a near repeat of ten years ago, with one marked difference.  Aomine tenses when he sees the face of the person trailing behind her, both familiar and foreign.  He contemplates escape but it's too late; he's already frozen to the spot.

            "You're actually here!" Momoi exclaims.

            "Did I have a choice?" Aomine avoids meeting her gaze, because it was level with the eyes of the man standing next to her.

            "I meant, you didn't leave in the middle," Momoi says. 

            "Haaah?" Aomine says, head snapping up.  He regrets it as fast as he can say, "Who would do that?"

            "It's good to see you again, Aomine-kun," Kuroko says.

            "Yeah," Aomine says, rubbing the back of his neck.  "Good to see you too."

            By then Aomine is absolutely resolute on leaving, but Momoi insists that he at least come to dinner with her and her parents.  “We hardly see each other anymore!” she says, as though it were a persuasive argument, and, “everyone else just couldn’t make either, so how often would we get the chance to meet up?”  Kuroko is invited too, of course.  Just like that Aomine finds himself seated uncomfortably next to Momoi and across from Kuroko at a restaurant a few notches higher end than he’s used to, listening to Momoi chatter excitedly to Kuroko, listening to Kuroko making polite conversation with Momoi's parents, a tranquil picture of quiet dignity and respectable friend material.  Aomine does his best to appear composed and functional and watches his speech, making sure to answer questions in complete sentences when addressed.

            By the time dinner was over, bill paid, Momoi’s parents seen off at the subway station, Aomine was _really_ ready to leave, ready to go home, and maybe run a few dozen laps around his neighbourhood to work off all his pent-up energy, but Momoi insists that the three of them go for drinks, to catch up, do all that socializing crap.  Without the presence of elders to deter him from being petulant, Aomine protests openly.  Not that his complaints matter to Momoi, who drags him and Kuroko to her favourite neighbourhood pub, anyway.  Over beers, Momoi continues her gabbling over the noise of the establishment.  Aomine marvels at how she can still make herself heard over the raucous clatter of beer mugs and small plates and the jovial hollers of welcome to every new party of customers.  Momoi tells them about her thesis, her research in sports psychology and medicine, her supervisors, her colleagues.  She urges Kuroko to share more about himself on her third round – he was doing his best to secure a permanent position at the high school he was teaching at, apparently – as Aomine sits, wordlessly nursing his drink, still on his first.  He answers Momoi’s irritated huffs with shrugs and Kuroko’s questions with yes and no.

            Only when it was nearing midnight did Momoi relent to call it a night.  Aomine is hardly buzzed by the end, barely polishing off a single mug of beer.  Momoi is significantly drunker than the two of them put together, so Aomine and Kuroko walk her back to her apartment, two blocks away, and she sways between the two of them as they still their pace to match hers.  At her door she hugs them both, and, perhaps more inebriated than she is used to being, Momoi is unusually forward towards Kuroko, planting a sloppy kiss on his right cheek.

            Kuroko only smiles gently and steadies her by the shoulders, helping Momoi find her keys in her purse.

            They wait till they hear Momoi lock her door before heading off.

            The night is warmer than Aomine expects it to be but even then he feels an odd sort of chill, as if the last vestiges of winter were murmuring through the air.  He cranes his neck, looking at the night sky, wondering where the stars were.  They walk down the empty street in without speaking, before Kuroko breaks the spell.

            "Are you feeling well, Aomine-kun?"

            "Yeah.  Why wouldn't I be?"

            "You've been unusually taciturn tonight," Kuroko says.  "I had been wondering why."

            Aomine shrugs.  "No reason."

            "May I ask," Kuroko says, "if you would have been happier today if you didn't see me?"

            "What makes you say that?"

            "It used to be that you and Momoi-san would lead all our conversations without any self-censorship.  You said everything that was on your mind.  Tonight she and I were the only ones speaking.  And you’ve been acting uneasy from the moment you saw me."

            "That's not—" Aomine closes his mouth.  He doesn't want to tell Kuroko that he just doesn’t know what to say, now.

            He doesn’t want to put a name on his unease and admit that everything feels different and he that doesn’t know how to fix it. 

            For a few quiet, heart-pounding moments, there is deafening silence, until Kuroko says, quietly, "It was good to see you here today, Aomine-kun.  We’ve never properly shared a graduation, so I'm glad we got this chance to share the day, even though neither of us are celebrating a personal completion of school."

            Aomine is intensely uncomfortable that Kuroko brings this up, so he ignores it and scoffs instead, saying, "We're not in school anymore.  You can drop the honorifics."

            "Aomine-kun," Kuroko continues, unfazed, "are you staying with your parents right now?"

            "Yeah.  Crashing in my old room."

            "Are they expecting you home now?"

            Aomine snorts.  "I think they learned a long time ago never to expect me for anything."

            "Then," Kuroko asks, "would you like to come over to my place?  To catch up."

            "Sure, yeah," Aomine says, slowly.  "Why not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: dec 7/8, 2012  
> first revised: feb 10, 2013


	12. [transformation] | aomine, kuroko; aokuro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ties. follows [formal].

            When Aomine loosens his tie it’s a display of rebellion, of aggression; an announcement.  He wears the tie shrugged out of its knot, or not at all, throughout all of his school life, readjusting it at a teacher’s scolding only to drag it out again once the teacher was out of sight.  When he gets older and ties are even more of an integral part of an adult’s uniform he clenches his jaw and smiles through his teeth when he has to wear it, fastened all the way up, at interviews or at press releases.  The way Aomine sees it, if he has to wear the noose of society’s choosing, he’s going to wear it how he wants.

            Ties look different on Kuroko than they do on him.  He’s always prim and collected, and he’s usually wearing his tie properly, all done up and orderly.  Kuroko wears them the way one is supposed to, and he stands for everything a tie represents: maturity, composure, dignity.  So when Kuroko loosens his tie it’s an opening, a baring, an invitation, and Aomine experiences it firsthand that night when Kuroko slips off his own tie and yanks Aomine down by his, hand fisted in the fabric, crushing their lips together, abrupt, unexpected, and wild.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: dec 7/8, 2012  
> first revised: feb 10, 2013


	13. [winter] | aomine, kuroko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's winter break and aomine had nothing better to do. originally posted christmas eve 2012.

            Aomine was bored stiff.  Winter holidays meant that he was bored at home and not in school, which was definitely a better kind of boredom, but after a few too many reruns of lackluster holiday programming even the novelty of lounging around at home started to vaporize.  He considered going back to sleep, but he'd been sleeping all week, all day, and he could only sleep for so long before his mind punted him back to consciousness, starkly lucid and aching for stimulation.

            After tossing and turning on the couch for a good number of hours, fruitlessly deliberating on his next course of action, Aomine's mother walked in and suggested to him, why not go out and get that scarf you've been needing?  A few weeks ago, on the way back from the supermarket, after catching her son shiver in the corner of her eye, she'd asked him if he was dressed warmly enough, it's a cold winter this year, and what happened to that scarf of yours?

            Aomine had thought back, and vaguely recalled that he still had his scarf last year.  He remembered that he had been wearing it when he skipped school in the middle of winter, meandering around the neighbourhood, and in a fit of aimlessness, had found himself at a park with a basketball court.  He hadn't really wanted to play, and he didn't have a basketball with him, anyway.  But there was nothing better to do, and it wasn't that cold, so he had peeled off his scarf and rolled it into a ball.  He'd tried tossing it, but it unravelled in seconds, flopping to the ground.  On his second try he'd _really_ tightened it into a functional sphere, but this time he'd thrown it over the net, overcompensating in force.  It had flown towards the trees, and he hadn't seen his scarf since.

            But Aomine wasn't about to tell his mother that.  So he shrugged.

            She had sighed without making a sound, and pressed a bill into his hands.  Go buy yourself a new one sometime, she'd said.    

            There wasn't any real reason to ignore her suggestion, and Aomine figured it'd be wiser to get out of the house now rather than stay and get in the way of his mother's preparations for New Year’s, or be on the receiving end of her complaints that he never helped out, or worse, get dragged into the preparations.  So he hightailed to his room and started pulling on jeans.  He fumbled for his phone, hitting the call button, figuring that if he had to go shopping, he might as well call someone up and hang out while he was at it.

            He hadn't bargained on Kuroko being the most recent number on his call list, and as soon as Aomine heard the quiet "Hello?" on the other end he started questioning whether or not he still wanted to go out.

            But he'd been the one who called, so there was no sense in backing out, no matter what strange sort of discomfort or awkwardness he felt, so Aomine asked if Kuroko he wanted to hang out, if he had nothing better to do.

            "Sure," Kuroko had said, and asked, "where?"

            "Shopping district, in front of the Christmas tree?" Aomine had said, and fifteen minutes later he stood there, exhaling frosty white puffs, staring at the crowds.  Nearly everyone he saw was dressed up and beaming in the dim light of the Christmas decorations.  Aomine wondered what the occasion was.

            A minute or two later, Kuroko showed up, and they picked a direction and walked.  Aomine made little to no small talk – not that Kuroko seemed bothered by it.  He just followed Aomine into stores, suggested alternatives when Aomine couldn't find what he wanted, and patiently held the other end of the scarves as Aomine tried them on, grousing about how long they were.

            The shopping trip took less time than he'd expected, so Aomine found himself drifting outside with Kuroko not long after.  Gaze unfocused, he watched the throngs of shoppers and revelers, looking at the couples, hand in hand, resplendent in each other's company.  Aomine looked at them, and felt a sudden pang of self-consciousness.  He began to ask himself if he was missing something, if he should aim to replicate their expressions of bliss.

            "What should we do now, Aomine-kun?" Kuroko asked, snapping Aomine out of his thoughts.

            Aomine glanced at a nearby clock, through the window of a storefront, past an elaborate Christmas display.  "Geh, it's still early.  No point going home already."

            "Then why don't we spend a little time in a coffee shop?"  Kuroko asked.  "To change up the routine a little."

            "Yeah, sure," Aomine said, and later, over the steam of coffee, watched the crowds through the window, alongside Kuroko.

            "Sure are a lot of couples tonight," Aomine commented, eyes following the latest one as they travelled past the window, the girl giggling, latched onto the arm of a boy, as tight as if she were clinging on for her life.

            "Indeed," Kuroko replied, between sips of a vanilla latte.

            "What's the occas—" Aomine began to ask, until a flash of realization hit him, memory jostled by the image of all the couples he had seen.  "Wait.  Tetsu, what's the date?"

            "The 24th."

            "Of December?" Aomine asked.  "It's Christmas Eve?"

            "You didn't know?"

            "No.  It's Christmas Eve?  Shit.  No wonder there were couples everywhere."  Aomine hoped he wasn't blushing.  "I kind of.  Um.  Picked a great day to hang out, didn't I?"

            Kuroko blinked, expression cool.  "I don't mind."

            "Ah, is that right."  Aomine laughed a little, a low, sheepish chuckle, and looked away.

            "Aomine-kun," Kuroko said.  "Do you mind?"

            "...No.  I don't mind," Aomine said, surprising himself.  He looked back to Kuroko.  His expression hadn't changed in the slightest, still impassive, still quiet.  Aomine tried to imagine what it'd be like, if he were sitting across from a girl, giggling and blushing, just like all those dolled-up girls out on the streets tonight.  He tried to picture what it'd be like to have an attentive, doting girl hanging off his arm, hanging off his every world.  He found himself unmoved.

            He looked at Kuroko for a moment or two longer, before they both returned to watching the streets over cooling drinks.  Outside, snow began to fall, and by the time they were ready to head home, the night sky was awash in a collage of snowfall, large clumps of delicate snowflakes tumbling through the air together.  Beside him, Kuroko shivered, and just for the heck of it, Aomine threw an arm around him.  When Kuroko advised him that people would talk, Aomine shrugged.  He said to Kuroko, “if they're gonna talk, might as well give them something to talk about, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: dec 24, 2012  
> first revised: feb 10, 2013
> 
> in case it isn't clear, christmas eve is known to be a couple's holiday slash day to do couple activities in japan.
> 
> this is meant to take place after the touou-seirin match in the winter cup, except i couldn't figure out whether or not the winter cup takes place in december or january, so please operate under the assumption that their schools already played each other in the official match.


	14. [silver] | furihata, akashi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU, akashi is a hair stylist/dresser. vaguely crackfic, in concept, if not in execution. this isn't really akafuri.

            It was not unusual for many, under a degree of prodding, to admit (with some embarrassment) that they were afraid to go to, say, the dentist, or maybe the doctor, in the way a child still scared of the water would be anxious over swimming lessons.  But one would be hard pressed to find someone admitting they were afraid to go to the hair salon.  And yet that was the exact situation Furihata Kouki found himself in.  He was afraid to go to the hairdresser.  Or, rather – he was afraid of his stylist.

            Even now Furihata wondered what possessed him to take his classmate Kuroko's offhand recommendation.  He frequented a salon, Kuroko had said, and his stylist always knew what to do, and you could pay him a visit, if you were interested.  Furihata was just a student, new in town for university, without any roots in this city, and what did he know.  He didn't need anything fancy, and though the salon's prices were a bit steeper than he was used to, it was good to try something new, he’d rationalized, and the promise of expertise put him more at ease.

            What he hadn’t expected was to walk into the establishment, business card in hand, get introduced to Akashi Seijuurou, and completely freeze on the spot.  Akashi's eyes seemed to flash with a sort of preternatural depth.  Those eyes remained fixed on him as Furihata filled out a form for their customer records, unmoving and piercing.  When Furihata had finished, Akashi took one look at his name and told him, without a hint of hesitation, Kouki, right this way, with a gesture towards one of the numerous mirrored stations.  Furihata had been taken aback, wondering if Akashi had come from a western upbringing. 

            So he’d sat down, intimidated beyond comprehension.  He had a hard time putting the feeling into words.  It was as though he had been stared down, sized up, judged.  Furihata imagined that this was what it must feel like to be a groveling subject before a king.  What was this guy doing as a hairdresser?  The way he exuded status, his extreme presence – none of this pointed towards someone suited to working in the service industry.

            Furihata had just needed a haircut, and he said as much.  He had given no other elaboration, not even when Akashi prompted him for his preferences or opinions.  Throughout the entire appointment, Furihata sat in the chair, ramrod straight and stiff, tensing up as the scissors glided through his hair.  He'd quivered with what he’d hoped was a ludicrous sense of apprehension, feeling as though he might get an eye gouged out at any moment, were he to move a muscle.

            He'd kept his eyes shut nearly the entire time, heartbeat racing alongside the rhythm of the scissors.  When he opened them at Akashi's command, he saw himself in the mirror, only different.  He looked neater, sharper, and he had no way of knowing what Akashi had done because he hadn’t the fortitude to observe.

            Furihata had paid in a hurry and left with only a nervous thank you and wave offered to Akashi.  In the following days, he received compliments on his haircut, unprompted, and when they failed to notice the haircut, he received compliments that he was looking particularly well-dressed and energetic.  He even had a number of girls smile in his direction.

            A few months later, Furihata found himself in need of a haircut again, and thought of Akashi.

            Somehow he ended up being a regular of Akashi's salon, despite the sense of dread he faced in the days leading up to the appointment.  Everything about Akashi terrified him, from his serious and all-knowing demeanor, to his unblinking stares, to even the other eye-catching regulars he saw in the salon, their hair awash in a shocking array of blues and yellows and greens and purples, not to mention Akashi's own crimson red, red as blood.  (He could never bring himself to ask if everyone's hair was dyed.)

            But still Furihata returned to seek Akashi's services, because whatever Akashi was doing with his hair, he did it well, better than Furihata would ever know to choose for himself.

            Come every four months, Akashi had told him.

            So he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: dec 26, 2012  
> first revised: feb 10, 2013


	15. [accusation] | midorima, takao

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nobody's trying to stab you in the back, midorima, calm down.

            "Takao," Midorima says, "Are you trying to sabotage my grades?"

            "What?" Takao asks.  "Where is this coming from?"

            "Why are you following me home?"

            "Uh, first of all, you made me cart you home—"

            "That's not what I mean," Midorima says, putting down his schoolbag.  "What I want to ask is: why did you follow me _into_ my home."

            Takao laughs, like he always does, and Midorima wonders if Takao needs to laugh in order to breathe.  "You're hilarious.  I just wanted to see what kind of upper class luxury you live in."

            Midorima sighs, adjusting his glasses.

            Takao waggles his eyebrows.  "So do I get the executive tour or what?"

            "Please leave now," Midorima says, taking off his shoes.

            "At least show me your bedroom," Takao wheedles, following him into the house.

            "I refuse," Midorima says.  "I have to study."

            "You can spare half an hour," Takao says, following Midorima up the stairs.  "Come on.  Half an hour of not studying won't drop you in the school rankings, Mr. Shuutoku Ace."

            "Don't call me that."  Midorima opens the door to his bedroom, sitting at his desk with a huff.  He spares a moment of silence before saying, "Are you satisfied?  Now go home."

            Takao sniggers behind a hand.  "So mean!  Shouldn't you at least offer me a cup of tea?  This is no way to be a sensible host."

            "Maybe you assume that high grades come to me naturally," Midorima says, crossing his arms, "but let me assure you, however great my natural disposition towards excellence, I still have to invest substantial effort to maintain perfection."

            Takao puts up his hands, grin creeping across his face.  "Why are you so suspicious, Shin-chan?  Someone been planting ideas in your head?"

            At this moment, Midorima recalls the words of his father.  “Have you made any friends, Shintarou?” his father had asked, about a month or two after he'd begun high school.  His father had gone on to remind him, in a stern voice, the importance of seeking companions compatible with oneself.

            Midorima looks at Takao and wonders what this boy could possibly be interested in.

            "Of course not," Midorima snaps, pushing the thought out of his mind.  He gets up, chair sliding back with a clatter.  "I'll get you your tea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: dec 26, 2012  
> first revised: feb 11, 2013


	16. [companion] | kagami, kuroko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this time kagami has to go to post-test-failing make-up lessons

            The next round of post-practice exam remedial lessons, incidentally, does not fall on an official game day.  Despite that Coach still makes an effort to school the grades of the Seirin basketball club members to respectable standings, and while she’s a demanding drill sergeant from hell like always, they can all tell her heart isn’t really into it.

            Maybe it’s because Riko’s study sessions aren’t quite as grueling this time around, or maybe because the latest round of tests have gotten harder – either way, Kagami ends up with three failing grades (and two that are borderline, but don’t tell anyone).  He resigns himself to a listless afternoon spent dozing off in a sunny classroom, getting told off by the teacher, and absorbing none of the lessons taught in spite of it all.   

            Perhaps Kagami has already turned off his mind in anticipation of the lessons, so he can’t say for sure if Kuroko had arrived before or after him.  Whichever it was, he jumps approximately a foot off his seat at the quiet “Kagami-kun,” coming from behind him. 

            "What are you doing here!"  Kagami yells, embarrassed, in the way one caught with his pants down would be.

            Kuroko is calm as pool of still water.  Typical, Kagami thinks.  "I'm here for remedial lessons, of course," comes the reply.

            Kagami slumps back against the wall, sideways in his chair.  "Man, this blows."

            "At least we aren't missing a game today," Kuroko says, turning a page in his book.

            "What subjects did they get you on, anyway?" Kagami asks.  He scratches his head. 

            "Chemistry and mathematics," Kuroko says, blinking.

            "Is that right," Kagami says.  "I don't remember your grades being that bad."  The book in Kuroko's hands doesn't look a thing like their textbooks.  He does not ask if Kuroko brought them at all.

            Kagami shrugs and turns around in his seat, cracking open his notebook as their class begins.  He stares at the clock and starts counting down the seconds.  He'll ask Kuroko if he wants to stop by Maji Burger, after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: dec 29/30, 2012  
> first revised: feb 11, 2013


	17. [thanks] | kuroko, kagami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes you don't need to say it

            Kuroko is mildly surprised when the extra drink on the tray of Kagami's latest burger run turns out to be a vanilla milkshake for him.  He accepts the shake wordlessly and politely declines a burger, when offered.

            The two of them hardly talk despite spending a good deal of time together, so Kagami knows that he never told Kuroko that the shoelace on his right shoe had frayed and ripped.  Yet there it was in his locker, a brand new pack of laces, pristine, white, unused.  He raises his eyebrows and starts lacing up, not asking who put them there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: dec 29/30, 2012


	18. [order] | akashi, miragen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on authority.

            Learning for humans was continuous, but there came a point where action produced the same results to the extent where one did not associate actions with results but actions with truth.  Akashi had learned, and so had everyone else.  When he speaks it is law, truth, reality.

            Ryouta, ever quick on the uptake, follows his every instruction without a word of protest, in an almost reckless frenzy to prove himself.  Shintarou concedes to his every decision with an air of resignation, though he accepts, invariably.  Daiki often does not listen but consents to be lead, and Akashi knows that his objectives stay echoing at the back of Daiki's mind.  And Atsushi obeys the way a young child takes a parent’s word as absolute.

            Tetsuya is the only one who ever questions him – why are we using this formation, he would ask, or, is that how the other team will really react, and, is that the right thing to do?  Tetsuya never disobeys but when he speaks, Akashi hears challenge.  He hears the noiselessness of unmalleability.

            Akashi would be watching Tetsuya, now.  One day this boy could send his established order spiralling askance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: dec 30, 2012


	19. [beginning] | kuroko, kagami, kise, momoi; aokuro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if: kuroko breaks the news of his relationship to three of his friends.

            “You’re what now?”  Kagami asks.

            “Going out with Aomine-kun,” Kuroko repeats.

            “I still don’t think I heard you right,” Kagami says.  “Say that one more time?”

            “I am now dating Aomine-kun,” Kuroko says, patiently.

            “I swear there’s something wrong with my hearing.  Come again?”

            “Kagami-kun,” Kuroko says, “I will hit you if you don’t take me seriously.”

            “No but come on!”  Kagami yells.  “Aomine?!  Mr. only one who can beat me is me?  Hah!  Yeah, right, I’ll bet the only one who would _date_ him is him.  Why him?”

*

            Kise breaks out into laughter.  “Good one, Kurokocchi.  And you said you weren’t good at telling jokes!”

            “Kise-kun—”    

            Kise snickers loudly.  “Going out with Aominecchi… you’re such a kidder.”

            “Kise-kun.”

            “Couldn’t have come up with a better one myself."

            "Kise-kun," Kuroko says, looking him straight in the eye.  "I'm telling the truth."

            Kise returns Kuroko's stare for a few, silent moments, before tears well up in his eyes.  He blinks rapidly.  "Eh?  Is it raining?  Why is there water on my face?"

*

            "Momoi-san.  There's something I have to tell you."

            "Tetsu-kun?  What is it?"  Momoi asks.

            "I must apologize for never giving you a proper answer.  I know you've tried to tell me your feelings before, and you've certainly showed me the extent of your affection."

            Momoi opens her mouth to speak, but Kuroko puts up a hand.  "I'm very sorry, but please let me finish first.  Momoi-san, you're a great person and anyone would be lucky to be with you.  Thank you.  I'm very flattered.  But I'm afraid I can't return your feelings."

            "Is it Dai-chan?"  Momoi asks, slowly.

            "...How did you know?"

            "Woman's intuition," Momoi says, with a sad smile.

            "I... see.  I'm sorry."

            "Don't be.  Thank you for telling me, Tetsu-kun.  Oh, and?"  Momoi says, smiling large and strained, "If he ever hurts you, tell me.  I'll kick his ass."

*

            "Kise-kun, please don't cry."

            "I'm not crying!" Kise exclaims, wiping away tears with the back of his hand.  "Shit, this is really embarrassing.  I don't even know why this is happening."

            "I'm sorry.  I didn't realize you would be so upset about this."

            Kise laughs darkly through the tears.  "This sucks.  Is this some kind of karmic retribution for turning down so many girls?  Why is it that the people I truly like end up not being into me?"

            "I didn't realize that—"

            "Yeah, that's right," Kise says, "I like you, Kurokocchi.  A lot.  I don't know how or why.  I just like you a lot and it really burns me up to see someone else get the special treatment from you."

            "Kise-kun—"

            "Kurokocchi," Kise says, meeting Kuroko's gaze head on.  "If you wanted to experiment, why couldn't you have picked me?"

            "Kise-kun," Kuroko says.  "I'm not experimenting."

            "Yeah," Kise says, with a defeated shrug.  "I know."

            "And maybe I'm wrong," Kuroko says, "but I think you're fond of me because I treat you differently than how everyone treats you."  Kise is looking away now.  Kuroko continues, even if his voice does not reach him.  "Someday, Kise-kun, you'll find someone who likes you for who you really are."

*

            "Well, okay," Kagami says, finally, after arguing till he was blue in the face.  "I still think you have horrible taste, but sure, whatever floats your boat."

            "How generous," Kuroko says, deadpan.  "Is this sort of open-mindedness granted to all who've lived in America?"

            "Eh?"  Kagami says.  "The hell you using that tone of voice for... anyway, America's got nothing to do with it.  It doesn't really matter, does it?  Just date whoever you want."

            "Thank you," Kuroko says, and adds, "—I really do mean it."

            "Sure," Kagami says, shrugging.  "I just hope he's worth it."

            "He is," Kuroko says, and smiles.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: jan 9, 2013  
> first revised: feb 11, 2013
> 
> i am half afraid that people would throw things at me because it looks like i'm sinking ships for pleasure; i'm not, i just want to explore a scenario?


	20. [knowledge] | aomine, kuroko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes you overlook the things you should be learning.

This is a list of things that Aomine Daiki does and does not know.

 

Knows: How to play basketball.  Scratch that, he knows how to play basketball _really awesomely_.

Doesn’t know: How to break it down and explain how he made that shot, at that angle, at that speed.

 

Knows: The best spots on campus to steal a nap, hidden away from the patrol routes of the teachers.

Doesn’t know: How to give someone directions to the library.

 

Knows: How to make a game out of everything.

Doesn’t know: Why everyone has to take everything so _seriously_.

 

Knows: How to convince Kuroko to cut classes.

Doesn’t know: How to convince Kuroko to cut practice.

 

Knows: How to make Kuroko laugh, whether he’s eliciting an exasperated chuckle with a lame joke or coaxing a genuine, clear laugh from deep within, when it’s just the two of them, messing around.

Doesn’t know: How to get rid of that look in Kuroko’s eyes, the one that manages to evoke the spectrum of sad to disappointed to lonely, all at the same time.

 

Knows: How to find a multitude of ways to kill time.

Doesn’t know: How to make basketball fun again.

 

Knows: There’s no one he’s waiting for.

Doesn’t know: That sometimes, even after regular practice was over, Kuroko went to the third string gym, staying till the school grounds closed, shooting baskets in silence, waiting for someone he knows won’t come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: jan 16, 2013


	21. [thousand] | takao, midorima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> midorima and video games, unfortunately, do not mix.

            "So, uh," Takao says, over the cheery refrains of victory music.  "Good game!"  He claps a hand on Midorima's shoulder and tries to ignore the way the top half of the screen keeps looping in proclamation of 'number 1, number 1' as his own character speeds around the track, posing, in stark contrast to the bottom half, where Midorima's character just cleared the finish line, in 12th place.

            Midorima stares at the TV screen wordlessly.

            "Uh.  Don't let it get you down!"  Takao says, to fill the silence.

            Midorima says nothing.

            "Ah, I didn't expect you to pick Bowser, though.  I would've thought you'd select a character with more precision in control... I usually go with Toad or Yoshi myself, I prefer speed—though Bowser does pack a punch if he rams into you..."  He was running off at the mouth, Takao knows, but he couldn't help it.  It just felt plain _weird_ for Midorima not to be talking, even if his talking usually consisted of an assortment of derisive comments.  He feels the responsibility to fill the gap.

            Takao glances over at Midorima mid-spiel to gauge his reaction.  Still nothing.  So he continues.

            "Oh, it was pretty awesome that you got the bullet thing, though you promptly drove off the track—wait, never mind."  Takao looks at Midorima again – was he _breathing_? – and then he starts staring out the window, so Takao does not notice Midorima's knuckles growing whiter by the second around the plastic of the controller.  "You know, I was pretty surprised when you started driving towards me.  I thought you intended on crashing into me as revenge for all those banana peels, but then you kept going and continued going in the opposite direction—"

            Lightning fast as a bird of prey, Midorima hurls the controller at Takao, or at least he tries to, realizing only when the controller would not fly that it was secured to his wrist by a strap.  He slams it down next to him instead.  Takao is thankful that his bedroom floor is carpeted.

            "This game isn't simple at all!" Midorima roars.

            Takao starts laughing uncontrollably.  "It's just Mario Kart!"

            "I will never take your word for anything ever again," Midorima says, wringing at the strap binding his wrist to the Wiimote, so incensed that he does not have the presence of mind to loosen it first.  "Simple racing game... hah! What a fanciful lie."

            "So there are a few gag items," Takao chokes out, doubled over in laughter.  "It's still a straightforward racing game!"

            "Shells don't _do_ that!" Midorima yells, finally wrestling the Wiimote off his wrist.  "Did they butcher a few turtle characters along the way to procure those shells?"

            "I can't... breathe..." Takao says, wheezing.  "Shin-chan, you _suck_ at this!"

            "Quiet!  Mastery in this endeavour is entirely pointless."

            "It just takes practice.  Play a few more times and you'll get the hang of it!"

            "I refuse."

            "Oh come on!"  Takao says.  "You'll shoot thousands of baskets but you won't play a video game a few more times?"

            "I am never going to visit your home ever again," Midorima snarls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: jan 17, 2013  
> first revised: feb 11, 2013


	22. [promise] | himuro, kagami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they never needed to plan their games, before. set pre-high school.

            They never needed a system to keep track of who was leading in the score.  They did not even have difficulty recalling who won which game, on what day.  It came as naturally to Tatsuya as recalling the names of the months, and he knew it was the same for Taiga.

            They never needed a schedule to set their games, either.  Whenever their neighbourhood teams felt like playing, they were ready.  Whenever Taiga dropped by to hang out, or whenever they walked past a basketball court, or whenever they got bored, they played one on one.  What kept them so driven to keep playing each other, aside from the drive to win, Tatsuya theorized, was probably the excitement generated by the spontaneity of their games, the unpredictability of when their next match would be, the unspoken agreement that they would keep playing till one of them was unquestionably crowned the victor.

            After their last match, Tatsuya realizes that Taiga would never set up their next game by himself, but Taiga had been the one who brought the challenge upon them both.  It was on _him_ to bring this to a close.  "Call me," Tatsuya says, in a way that afforded no chance for discussion.  Tatsuya waits for a call that he doesn’t make himself, for a call that never comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: jan 19, 2013


	23. [letters] | kagami, kise; kagakise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as if it isn't bad enough that kise is _already_ texting him.

            Every time Kagami gets a text from Kise he thinks about pulling a hair off Kuroko's head, in part revenge against Kuroko for giving Kise his number to begin with, and in part because it was the only method Kagami could think up that would accurately emulate a _small_ degree of the irritation every one of those insipid messages caused him.

            The texts themselves are fairly benign; at least, that's how they begin.  Kagami thought he'd be able to handle it – the peppy good morning texts, all the incomprehensible emoticons, the deluge of updates on Kaijou's match results, training regimens, his latest photo shoots, what he had for breakfast –  albeit his eyes hurt from all the rolling.  It was easy enough for Kagami to ignore the messages.  He wondered if the boy had anything better to do other than text like crazy.

            That was all par for the course and somewhere down the line Kagami gets used to it, so just as he’s made peace with his latest intolerable social connection, the fucker decides to send him a message reading 'Hey babe, tell me what you're wearing.'

            Kagami’s jaw drops and he is too incensed not to reply, so he texts back, the first time in a while, asking, 'You texting the wrong person, idiot?'

            The reply comes the next day while Kagami is eating lunch, reading, 'Course I know who I'm texting, I'd never forget someone with an ass like that.'  Kagami chokes on his sandwich.

            So he fires back, 'You lose a bet or something? This your punishment game?'

            ‘I wouldn’t mind if you were the one punishing me.’ says the next.

            'Seriously, stop.  Did your phone get hijacked?'

            The next text comes with a photo, a picture of Kise suggestively licking a dark line up a popsicle, camera angled in a way to capture the feat from above, as if the viewer were looking down at him.  ‘It’s all me.’ reads the message.

            At this point Kagami refuses to reply at all, just tosses his phone away like a scalding lump of coal.  He fumes about it during practice, to the alarm of his teammates, and the consternation of Riko, who gives him an earful about damaging school equipment.

            By chance Kagami runs into Kise over the weekend.  They’re out on the street and Kise is with a group of his friends.  Kagami doesn’t even care; he charges over anyway and grabs him by the collar.

            “Yo.  Someone’s excited to see me,” Kise says, infuriatingly chipper.  He waves away the defensiveness of his friends, as if to tell them stand down.

            “Shut up.  You had your fun.  Now cut it out.”

            “Sure you’re not up for more _fun_?  Kidding,” Kise says, putting up his hands, at the twitch of Kagami’s hand.  He chuckles.  “Kagamicchi, if this is what it takes to get you to reply, don’t you think I’d keep it up?

            Kagami releases him, incredulous and disgruntled all at once.  “You… really like messing with people, don’t you,” he says.  A statement.

            Kise doesn’t answer his question.  He just winks, and says, “Make sure you text me back, k?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: jan 21/22, 2013  
> first revised: feb 11, 2013


	24. [sunset] | kagami, kuroko; kagakuro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> planning a date is really hard, okay?

            "Kuroko, d'you want to go to the beach with me..." Kagami says, trying out the way it sounds on his tongue, before slapping a hand to his face.  "Naw, that won't work at all," he mutters, under his breath.

            "Sure," Kuroko says, at his side.  "But where would we find a beach in the middle of Tokyo?"

            "Holy shit!"  Kagami yells.

            "I thought you were talking to me," Kuroko says.

            "I didn't even know you were there!"

            "I've been walking with you since we left school," Kuroko says.

            "Next time say something!" Kagami shouts.

            "You said my name, though," Kuroko says.  "I thought you knew."

            "That, uh," Kagami says, flushing at the realization.

            "Wasn't meant to be heard?"

            "Um, it came out all wrong—”

            "Were you trying to ask me out on a date?"

            Kagami sputters.

            "Kagami-kun, were you thinking along the lines of long walks on the beach, or watching the sunset?  That's a bit cliché, isn't it?"

            "Hey, shut up..."

            "We don't have to go to the beach to make it a date, you know," Kuroko says, expressionless.  "We could just do what we usually do... hang out, get food."

            "Yeah, but there's nothing special about that," Kagami says, sulkily.

            Kuroko stares at Kagami.  "I thought you'd deny it.  You... meant it?"

            Kagami sees the light of the sunset reflected on Kuroko's face.  Before he can ask "So is that a yes?" Kuroko is already gone, disappeared from his line of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: jan 22, 2013  
> first revised: feb 11, 2013


	25. [simple] | kise, kuroko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you can never make a first impression again. teikou era, set a little after 'Tip-Off' chapter 62.5 / the as of yet unaired OVA.

            "Yo, Kurokocchi," Kise says, stopping at Kuroko's locker.  "Going home?"

            "Kise-kun," Kuroko says.  "I thought I asked you to stop calling me that."

            "Why?"  Kise says, brightly.  "I don't call everyone that, you know."

            "That isn't quite the point," Kuroko says, stepping into his outdoor shoes.

            "You shouldn't worry about such trivial things," Kise says, walking alongside Kuroko, unprompted.  He stretches a drawn out, languid stretch.  "Man, I'm glad there's no practice today, but I wanna play basketball."

            "I'm afraid Aomine-kun had to stay behind in class.  I heard from Midorima-kun earlier.”

            Kise laughs.  "No, silly!  I want to play with you."

            Kuroko looks at Kise, blankly.  "...Why?"

            "Why?"  Kise scratches his head.  "What do you mean?  We're friends, aren't we?  We’re teammates, we both like basketball… Is this about our mismatch in ability?  I didn't mean we had to play seriously."

            "It's not that," Kuroko says.  "I was under the impression that you didn't like me very much, Kise-kun."

            For a moment Kise looks as though he is at a loss for words.  He recovers quickly, laughing it off.  "Where on earth did you get that idea?  Don't complicate things, Kurokocchi."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: jan 23, 2013  
> first revised: feb 11, 2013


	26. [mad] | momoi, aomine, kuroko; kagamomo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kuroko plays relationship counselor while aomine unhelpfully adds comments.

            Aomine makes a face as he walks into his room.  "What, Satsuki, you're still here?"

            Momoi scowls at him.  "So what?  I'm not keeping you from anything important."

            "Look, just go home already."

            "I don't want to," Momoi says, crossing her arms.

            "You don't even live with Kagami!" Aomine yells, slapping a hand to his face.

            "Yeah but he knows where I live!" Momoi yells back, throwing a pillow at him.  "I'm staying here.  You can just deal with it."

            "What did I tell you?" Aomine says, walking past her, flopping on his bed.  "Don't do it, don't date him.  Well look how great this is working out for you!"

            "Shut up!  You're not qualified to comment on the quality of my boyfriend!"

            "Then don't complain!  Besides, you were the one who asked him out to begin with!"

            "Momoi-san, Aomine-kun," Kuroko says at the door.  "May I come in?"

            "Oh good, reinforcements," Aomine says.  "Tetsu, you handle this.  And could you maybe get her out of my house?"

            "Did he tell you to come?" Momoi asks, accusatory.

            "Or at least get her out of my room," Aomine adds.

            "No, he didn't," Kuroko says, sitting down on the floor next to Momoi, ignoring Aomine.  "Momoi-san, please don't be angry with Kagami-kun.  He's very upset."

            "Do you know what he _said_ , Tetsu-kun?"  Momoi says.  "He was surprised when I said that there was no way I was planning on going to the festival with anyone else, and _then_ it was news to him that, okay, _in his words_ , 'you're only going out with me?' "

            Kuroko presses his lips together before saying, slowly, "I thought Kagami-kun apologized?"

            "But he doesn't _get_ it!"  Momoi shouts.  "We've been going out for so long and he still doesn't see me as his girlfriend?"

            "Momoi-san," Kuroko says.  "You'll have to forgive Kagami-kun.  Sometimes you have to spell it out for him.  He can be a bit dim."

            Aomine snorts in the background.  Momoi shoots him a dirty look.

            "I just want you to know," Kuroko says, quietly, "he's mad about you."

            At first Momoi is indignant, ready to snap about where Kagami could piss off to, but as she turns the words over in her head the meaning sinks in.  She thinks of the dopey look Kagami had on his face on their first date, thinks about the way he gets flustered whenever he thinks he’s offended her, and slowly a smile blossoms on her face.

            "Yeah," Momoi says, to no one in particular.  "I guess I'm mad about him, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: jan 29, 2013  
> first revised: feb 11, 2013


	27. [restless] | kuroko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a temporary retirement. kuroko, post-teikou basketball club, pre-high school.

            It had been the right decision to quit the team, even if it had not felt like it was the right thing to do.  To Kuroko, what stung the most was that in the end, he _had_ given up, despite having vowed to himself (and secretly, to Aomine-kun) never to do so.

            Still, it was better to quit now than to stay in the club, being reminded of his inadequacy and watching as he grew further and further apart from the friends he thought he'd never lose.  Better to cut off a rotting limb than to watch it fester.

            For about a month Kuroko could not bring himself to touch a basketball.  He hated to be reminded of why he put it down to begin with.  The first week after he quit, Kuroko was at a loss for how to spend all the free time he was suddenly presented with.  It was almost disorienting to go through the day without the rigor the practices imposed, though he soon came to appreciate the openness of his schedule.  There was no more waking up at the crack of dawn and leaving school after it was dark.  He could finally see the sun.

            In time, Kuroko found that he was brimming with excess energy.  The thud of his heartbeat began to mimic the staccato rhythms of a game.  His body remembered before his mind the way he used to sit on the bench, heart racing, having to will himself to stillness.  He had always been ready to enter the fray.

            Weeks after he first put away his ball, Kuroko brought it out again. It was late at night and nearly time for bed, but he did not want to wait.  So he left the house a few minutes before midnight and headed to the court closest to his home.  What began as a slow walk to the park in the frozen night turned into a run, and Kuroko stood once more on the basketball court, like he had never left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first completed/posted on tumblr: feb 5, 2013  
> first revised: feb 11, 2013


End file.
